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The Sacred Poets of England and America: For Three Centuries
Rufus Wilmot Griswold
Vista completa - 1866
angels beams bear beauty blessed blood born breast breath bright bring clouds crown dark death deep delight died doth dust earth eternal eyes face fair fall fear fire flame flowers give glorious glory grace grave grief grow hand happy hast hath head hear heart heaven heavenly hills holy hope hour King leave light live look Lord meet mind morning nature never night o'er once pain pass peace pleasure poems poet poor praise pure rest rich rise round sacred seen sense shade shine sight sing sleep smile song soon soul sound spirit spring stand stars streams sweet tears thee thine things thou Thou art thought true turn unto voice waves wind wings wise
Página 359 - Shaped by himself with newly-learned art; A wedding or a festival, A mourning or a funeral; And this hath now his heart, And unto this he frames his song: Then will he fit his tongue To dialogues of business, love, or strife; But it will not be long Ere this be thrown aside, And with new joy and pride The little actor cons another part ; Filling from time to time his
Página 275 - When even at last the solemn hour shall come, And wing my mystic flight to future worlds, I cheerful will obey; there, with new powers, Will rising wonders sing. I cannot go Where universal love not smiles around, Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their suns; From seeming evil still educing good, And better thence again, and better still, In infinite progression.
Página 172 - No war, or battle's sound Was heard the world around ; The idle spear and shield were high up hung ; The hooked chariot stood Unstained with hostile blood ; The trumpet spake not to the armed throng ; And kings sat still with awful eye, As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.
Página 378 - Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear ; The upward glancing of an eye, When none but God is near. Prayer is the simplest form of speech That infant lips can try ; Prayer the sublimest strains that reach The Majesty on high.
Página 357 - No more shall grief of mine the season wrong; I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng, The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep, And all the earth is gay...
Página 173 - Nature that heard such sound, Beneath the hollow round Of Cynthia's seat, the airy region thrilling, Now was almost won To think her part was done, And that her reign had here its last fulfilling ; She knew such harmony alone Could hold all heaven and earth in happier union.
Página 170 - Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, If better thou belong not to the dawn, Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere, While day arises, that sweet hour of prime. Thou sun, of this great world both eye and soul, Acknowledge him thy greater ; sound his praise In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st, And when high noon hast gained, and when thou fall'st.
Página 357 - Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call Ye to each other make ; I see The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee ; My heart is at your festival, My head hath its coronal, The fulness of your bliss, I feel - I feel it all.
Página 209 - THE COLLAR I STRUCK the board, and cried, no more; I will abroad. What? shall I ever sigh and pine? My lines and life are free ; free as the road, Loose as the wind, as large as store. , Shall I be still in suit? Have I no harvest but a thorn To let me blood, and not restore What I have lost with cordial fruit? Sure there was wine, Before my sighs did dry it : there was corn, Before my tears did drown it. Is the year only lost to me? Have I no bays to crown it ? No flowers, no garlands gay?